


Connected with Ink

by SteamChesh



Series: Inky Soulmates [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern AU, Soul Mate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteamChesh/pseuds/SteamChesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soul mates are only the stuff of dreams, wishes and fantasies that aren't meant for him. Never have been and never will be. It's only when writing begins to appear on his arm that he changes his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So I was inspired by a soul mate AU that I found on Tumblr (so much inspiration) where if you write on your skin, it appears on your soul mate- and I've been fixated on this Modern Day Thedas thing for a while, so... HERE'S MY TRASH I GUESS. 
> 
> I plan on doing it for all of the romances. In all three games. You heard me right.

His alarm clock beeped- loudly. Was it bloody Monday already? He groaned loudly into his flat. However, being Monday started a new curriculum for his students; Over his favorite subject- Necromancy through the ages - and modern Day Necromancy.

Dorian Pavus did what he always did on Mondays- had what Fereldan’s called ‘The hair of the dog’ which was to say: a small drink of the drink that made him hungover in the first place. Not that it ever worked, not fully- it only made the headache go away and it was probably due to the fact that Antivan Brandy always made his head blissfully numb.

He took a relatively cool shower to wake him up, and commenced in his morning hygiene and grooming rituals. A straight razor made from silverite with a dawnstone edge (as dawnstone held a better edge than most other straight razors) What could he say? He was old fashioned (you could thank his Tevinter up bringing for that).

Done with the five o'clock shadow that plagued his marble worthy profile shot into the void, he applied a bit of aftershave, making sure his face was as smooth as an Orlesian baby’s backside, which it always was (this is him we’re talking about).

And now for his hair, the usual? Or something new? After gazing at his hair (and partially himself, admiring his handiwork on his face), he decided that his usual was perfect… Well maybe with just a little bit of flare on top.

Now, he was ready to actually get dressed. He looked at the clock, and of course he was right on time- and what that meant: being fashionably late was always considered 'on time’, at least for him. He browsed his closet, a wide spectrum of colors arrayed his closet, apart from being dramatically intelligent, he knew how to dress, how to actually dress (another perk of being from Tevinter).

Looking in his full body mirror he sighs dramatically, “So many good choices!” He chirps mostly to himself, picking out a black undershirt for starters, checking his phone for the weather and frowning, of course it was going to be cold- why wouldn’t it be?

After putting on deodorant he picked out a rather dark magenta Imperial Vestment cotton collared button up, paired with a black Silken Nether cloth tie, a dark purple silk brocade vest and black Imperial Vestment cotton trousers. A pair of black Deep Stalker dress shoes were chosen from his rack before slipping them on his feet.

Assessing his look once again, he nodded, “You’ve done it again.” He smirked and grabbed a black Dales Loden wool coat, easily sliding his phone in the front pocket, along with his wallet, and scooping up his keys and his phoenix scale bag by the handle. Stepping out of his flat, it was a bit windy, but the cold wasn’t too terrible- for now.

He passed by the coffee shop, before curving the corner and heading straight to the College.

There were a few police vehicles just at the curb, and his light green eyes scanning the commotion and finding a familiar blonde Commissioner pinching the bridge of his nose, he allowed himself a chuckle as he walked over.

“May I even ask what is going on?” The Tevinter asked with a raised eyebrow, only to have the Commissioner look at him with a glare for a moment before he realized who he was.

Cullen didn’t look too enthused regardless, “It seems Madame Vivienne,” Dorian noted the disdainful tone, “Wanted to show up to the College almost completely unannounced- and if we don’t want to anger Orlais by 'endangering one of their most respected delegates’ we have to be here until she decides to leave.”

Dorian scoffed, “Vivienne? Are you joking?” There was a respected rivalry between the Tevene and the Orlesian Delegate, “Madame Vivienne can hold her own against…” Dorian glanced at the crowd with a single glance, “Such rabble.”

It was Cullen’s turn to scoff, “And don’t I know it. But I’d rather not have Orlais down our back and tear down all of the hard work Lady Josephine and Lady Leliana have been working to.”

“Those are two women I’d hate to see on their bad days.” Dorian agreed, getting an emphatic nod from Cullen, “Shall we see you at Cloud Reach on Saturday?” He chuckled.

“If Varric has anything to say about it.” Cullen grumbled as Dorian chuckled with a shake of his head and weaved his way through the boisterous crowd, it was difficult to breathe in such an amount, let alone move, but once he got to his classroom he dusted off his clothing and stepped inside.

Dorian’s lecture was shorter than he realized, covering the basics of Necromancy as well as the founding of the art and within two hours he was finished, along with three bottles of water.

He rolled up his sleeves with the goal to tackle some of his more problematic lectures, but that’s when he spotted it, writing on his arm. He had two hours before his next lecture. He could… Research this interesting phenomenon…

He pulled out his cell phone, and took a picture of the writing. 'The road goes ever on and on.’ It’s scrawly and threads together, a man’s handwriting then.

And sent it to two phone numbers. Hopefully one of them would know what it is. And before he knew it he got one reply; and of course it would be Piper- she’d be the only one up at this hour.

Within the next half hour, the Fereldan nurse was in his class room with two cups in a holder in one hand, and then a bag in another, “I grabbed breakfast on the way.” She explained, excitement bubbling in her voice as she nearly bounded across the room, putting the items on the table, “Show me, show me!”

He was so swept up by her enthusiasm that he forgot to point out how lovely she looked all bundled up in the wool coat that he had gotten her for what she had 'designated’ as her name day.

He had kept his sleeve rolled up and raised his arm, but looked at her closely, “What’s going through your mind, my dear?”

A smile broke out, “I think, Dorian… You found your soul mate.” She smiled.

“My what?”

“Soul. Mate. I can tell that’s not your handwriting.” She claps together, “Go on, write something back!”

Dorian raised an eyebrow and shook his head, “I might have written it while I was drunk. That’s the only explanation.”

He didn’t have a soulmate. Soulmates were for sweet maidens and knights in shining armor; or tragic Elvhen pairs that can’t live without one another and commit a dual suicide. Soulmates were meant for theater, books and cinema.

They weren’t meant for him.

But Piper’s green eyes looked at him with a hard look, “I think you should try writing back.” She smirks, “At least once… Then you can call me crazy and tell me I’m wrong.” She giggled as she put a hand on his shoulder.

Dorian looked at him for a long moment, “You’re serious about this.” He narrowed his eyes, “You can’t be.” But her expression was resolute, “What do I even say? 'Hello’? 'I’m your soulmate’?”

“No,” She chuckled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Just add on to his comment.”

Dorian’s eyebrows furrowed deeply, his mustache twitching. It would be only just one reply. Then nothing would happen, and that would be the end of it. He took one of his pens- one of those that wouldn’t bleed his words together.

“'Down from the door where it began’…” Piper softly hummed as he wrote the words into his skin.

“There.” He sighed as if he had just lifted one hundred pounds and then put it back on the ground, “Now will you stop pestering me?”

She chuckled and took a sip of her hot chocolate, “Alright, here, I got you those little things you like.” She chuckled, giving him a little bag with those tiny cookies with the chocolate drop in the middle, “And a Golden Dumat- something to warm up your bones.” She added, teasing the Tevinter.

“Have you… Ever…?” Dorian glanced at his arm and then back up to Piper who shook her head.

“Would I be the lonely bachelorette if I found mine already?” She smiled, sadly, “I’m pretty much resigned.” She shrugged, “I can’t wait to meet him.” She giggled, wanting to get back on to a lighter topic.

Dorian gulped, “Yay…” He mumbled as he took a sip of the warm cinnamon chocolate drink.

There was a momentary silence as he stared at his arm for another moment, the muscle flexing as he clenched his hand, holding it as designs started forming around their words, like someone was drawing a leafy frame around them.

“Fasta vass!” He nearly shouted, standing up out of his chair, and Piper’s eyebrows raised up and stood up with him, confused until she saw the leaves and swirls around his

“Maker’s breath…” Her smile beamed, “I knew it! Take the day off, go find him!” She bounced excitedly.

Dorian’s tongue couldn’t form the words and his mind was struggling to find any. His heart is thumping in his chest and he wants to go, it’s obvious his heart wants to write on his skin until he finds the fabled soul mate, but his mind urges him to stay here- that they, as a whole, can’t go through the heartache again.

It’s the fear of pain that wins out.

“Piper… I can’t… I have a lecture in… An hour.” He smiled regrettingly at her, “But, perhaps-” He tries to uplift the situation, “Now that I have a way of… Communicating-” He holds up his arm, “Perhaps there can be a happy ending eventually.”

She pouted at him for the moment, but rolled her eyes with a sigh, “Alright, alright. Just… Keep me updated, alright?”

“Always.” Dorian chuckles, taking a sip of the warming drink.

Piper leaves, her hair bouncing with her step as she goes, and for a moment he thinks that it’s odd that out of the two of them- he gets the soul mate first. Piper was more the hopeless romantic- this was her area of expertise. So what makes Dorian worthy of this honor first?

Dorian shook his head and began stroking the designs on his skin with fondness.

He took his pen and began writing on his skin, 'What can I call you?’.

A pause, and it was within this pause that Dorian began to doubt, did he overstep his bounds by asking too much? Surely he had, it was only now that they had… 'Discovered’ one another, had he been too forward? What if-

'Mahanon’

He nearly sighed with relief, now the object of his affections had a name.

'Yourself?’ The letters curled just below the name, and Dorian had to take his time, his excitement almost getting the better of him.

'Dorian’ His elegant handwriting curled into each letter, one after the other.

'Talk later?’

How could Dorian say no? It would be rude of him to do such a thing- and besides; the thought came to Dorian and he emitted a bark of laughter, Mahanon had his skin as communication means.

'Wouldn’t have it any other way.’

And just like that- it was like hanging up the phone, speaking silently with a paramour that you couldn’t see or hear. It made his skin tingle and he grabbed his phone to take photos. How could he not? It was their first 'interaction’.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting home couldn't be any better, he was excited, he could feel eyes on him as he nearly stormed out of his classroom, eager to talk with the mysterious soul mate only known to him as Mahanon. 

He sat on his couch, not paying any real attention to the music that filled the air of his flat, nor the book in his hand; evident by the way he kept glancing at his arms, determined to catch a glimpse of the communication. 

This was absolutely ridiculous, wasn't it? Most certainly- he had more lectures to plan, more things to make-

'Long day?' 

But he couldn't stop himself being ready with a pen at his side, 'The longest'. He chuckled, trying to be brief was certainly interesting, he was curious if he'd run out of skin to write on. 

'Tell me about it'

"How sweet of you, amatus." Dorian chuckled. 

'I just couldn't wait to get home.' He writes slowly, almost with reverence, 'What about yours?' 

'Class was interesting, to say the least'

Dorian's eyebrows raised in surprise, so he was at the college? When did... Where... But remembering the crowd this morning, it could have been anyone and he sighed, of course it wouldn't be that easy. 

'What do you study?' He asked, almost instinctively. 

'So curious' 

He could almost hear the chuckle through the words that appeared on his skin, and he chuckled at his impatience. 

'It's a character flaw' Dorian quips back. 

'Not a flaw.' Writing is now hastily written, 'An added bonus' 

Then on the bottom of his arm, 'running out of room- tomorrow?' 

Dorian finds himself becoming sad at the aspect of having to let Mahanon go, but perhaps he can actually get something done this evening... 

'If we must...' 

'Tomorrow, promise'

And Dorian doesn't hear from Mahanon from the rest of the evening. And Dorian snaps another picture of his arm, smiling at the words.

Tomorrow starts more fruitful, but the crowd is still at the College as is Cullen and the Tevinter gives the Commissioner a friendly wave, which is responded with a short delay by the Commissioner looking suspiciously at his arm, and for a moment Dorian sees the curve of a smile before glancing at his watch and looks back up to the crowd with a frown, as if the smile had never happened. 

But Dorian is trying to see someone- anyone who looks like a 'Mahanon', but he doesn't even know what to begin to look for and he looks at his own watch, he's got a few moments to relax by the school's fountain, but it's only just a few. 

"Some crowd, right?" An exhausted huff, sits on the other side of the fountain, and he recognizes the voice almost instantly. 

"It seems Vivienne is always causing up a storm wherever she goes." Dorian chuckles, "Lavellan, isn't it?" Dorian's only heard of the man in passing, truth be told.

The man makes some sort of confirmation sounds like he doesn't want to talk, Professor Lavellan was always quiet- reserved, Dorian had assumed it was because he was an elf, but that was only because most of the elves he knew were quiet. 

"DORIAN!" 

Most of them were reserved. 

Sera being the exception. 

The elf came bounding towards him in what looked like to be a hop and a skip, her yellow plaid-weave leggings clashing with her red dress, that nearly looked nice- if it hadn't been ripped and sewn back together in typical Sera fashion. 

Dorian sighed, "Yes?" 

"You comin or what?" 

Dorian looked at her closely, "Did you... Cut your hair?" 

Sera grinned with silence.

Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose, "With a rusty butter knife again?" 

Her laughter rang through the air and she wore a victorious grin. 

Dorian let a long sigh of disappointment out of his lips, "Maker, Sera, how many times do I have to tell you to find some scissors, at least?" 

But before she even replied she was pulling him off the fountain and away. With Professor Lavellan staring at his hands in utter silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale for Mahanon and Dorian.

As Dorian arrived at the small breakfast with his friends, he couldn't stop glancing at the half-finished design on his hand; a ring of leaves starting at his thumb and trailing down to his wrist before fading off.

His companions noticed that he kept glancing at his hand, and he blamed that he was keeping an eye on the time (he did still have to hold the lecture, after all- it wasn't the holidays yet) but Mahanon hadn't directly said anything all morning. Once he was out of the prying eyes of his companions, he'd have to investigate whether or not he was alright.

"Sparkler? Hello?" Varric waved his hand in front of Dorian's face.

"Vishante kiffas!" Dorian swatted the dwarf's hand away, "What?"

"You're staring into nowhere again." Varric chuckled, "You okay? Long night?"

Dorian chuckled, "It's school season, my hirsute little friend, lectures do not make themselves." Though speaking of school- he glanced at his watch and got up, gathering the to-go coffee cup in his hands and waving the others a good day.

Once in the safe confines of his classroom he took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves- he wore a black shirt with a gold tie today- black was ever so slimming- and tried to think of something to write, he was curious and worried at the same time.

'You're awfully quiet this morning'

There was a long pause, and Dorian began panicking; Did something happen? His eyes went wide as his stomach dropped, and he almost cried out in relief when lines began to form.

'Just' another long pause, 'thinking'.

Dorian's eyebrows furrowed with worry, this wasn't just anyone, this was his soul mate, and Dorian felt personally responsible for his well being.

'Copper for your thoughts?'

There was another long pause, 'Too much to write' another pause, 'Scared, I guess'

Dorian was about to write, but Mahanon's writing hurriedly scribbled, 'Class is starting'.

And much to Dorian's disappointment, that was the end of it. There was no promise of later, there was no reassurance- not that Dorian needed any- Okay, so maybe that was a complete lie. What was Mahanon scared of? What happened? Dorian didn't say something stupid did he? Certainly wouldn't be the first time...

Instead, he wrote on his arm, 'You know where to find me'

The day was excruciatingly long, Dorian couldn't remember having a longer day then today. He had convinced himself that he had messed up, that he had done something, because that was the case, wasn't it?

He didn't usually decline drinks with friends, being the social butterfly he is- but tonight, tonight was different. He folded the coat in his arms as he climbed the stairs to his flat, usually light footed with a bit of 'pep in his step' but tonight they were begrudging. Mahanon had been silent all day- and Dorian oddly felt... _Drained._

Can you feel drained without... Actually knowing them? Was it silly to feel so connected to someone you've never met face to face?

Dorian groaned, how had this even happened? In less then two days his 'schedule' had been turned upside down. And for what? A faceless person who only had a name, and vishante kiffas- handwriting that made his stomach do flips. What was the matter with him?

Fasta vass, he needed something stronger this evening. He began pouring a drink for himself, didn't matter what it was. Maker's breath he didn't want to feel.

'That I do'

Dorian glanced at his arm, not expecting anything to come to the surface, but those three words nearly made him drop the whole damn bottle on the floor.

What... What did that mean? Given though, all Mahanon had to do was just write on his arm and poof! it was done, but... What sort of vague reply was that?

Dorian corked the bottle, Antivan brandy is what he had picked out, evidently- well that would definitely get him into a stupor quicker than you could say 'Na via lerno victoria'.

He hooked a single finger over his tie, loosening it so it slightly hung off it's normally perfectly straight line, and placed the bottle of Antivan brandy to the side, picking up the glass that was half full of it. He'd need more by the end of the night, he was sure.

There was a knock at the door and he was startled for the second time that evening, "Venhedis." He clutched his heart and put the glass down, wondering who would be at his door right now. There was a long list of people who knew where he lived, but he suspected Piper- the adorable little worry wart.

He put on a face that was appropriate for the woman, complete with a smile that he didn't feel. But to sate his curiosity, he peered through the peep hole on his flat door. Lavellan? What was... What was he doing here?

Another quick moment to adjust his personality- re-adjusted his tie, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Lavellan." He smiled opening the door, leaning against it, "Come to exchange notes in person this time?" It was a jest of course.

Lavellan didn't seem to respond, instead his gold eyes seemed to flicker at Dorian's exposed arms- something that Dorian had forgotten all about. Dorian almost went to cover it up, but saw that Lavellan's eyes widened.

"Fenedhis..."

Dorian's heard that before, and usually it's not used in a good situation- but something about Professor Lavellan's scrambling...

He rolled up his own sleeve, on the same arm- and Dorian tensed up, Lavellan couldn't be... Could he? There the writing was- Dorian's own handwriting on the man's pale skin- dark as night.

Lavellan pulled out a pen from his own pocket, with a shaky hand writing the phrase:

_I found you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And next is Male Hawke and Anders. :D (going off a randomizer- always up for suggestion!)


End file.
